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I 



ALL'S TRUE 

A PAGEANT PLAY 



WRITTEN BY A CLASS IN ENGLISH 
IN 

MISS HOPKINS' SCHOOL 

NEW YORK 
under the direction of * 

ELINOR MURPHY 



The Creative Pageant Play Series 




Boston 

THE PALMER COMPANY 

1917 



>^!««iayti8«ii8a!^«^i««i^i^e8a(>8at^ 



ALL'S TRUE 

A PAGEANT PLAY 



WRITTEN BY A CLASS IN ENGLISH 
IN 

MISS HOPKINS' SCHOOL 

NEW YORK 
under the direction of 

ELINOR MURPHY 



The Creative Pageant Play Series " 




Boston 

THE PALMER COMPANY 

1917 






Copyright, 1917, by 
The Palmer Company 



i^ 



-i^ 



MAY 31 1917 



NEWCOMB & GAUSS, PRINTERS 
SALEM, MASS. 






ALL'S TRUE 



Place : A room in New Place House, Stratford. Fireplace to 
left. Door to left and to right. High backed arm chair by the fire. 
Writing- table and high backed chair behind it to right. In the 
rear of the room a double door, opening with curtains that part 
in the middle. Child asleep in cradle in rear of room. Candles 
on mantelpiece and table. 

Time: Evening June 30, 1613. 
Characters : 



Will Shakespeare 

Ann Shakespeare 

Ben Jonson 

Spirit of the 20th Century 

Puck 

The Fairy 

Titania and her train 

Rosalind 

Orlando 

Touchstone 



Celia 

Mark Antony 

Portia 

Hamlet 

Eomeo and Juliet 

Henry the Fifth 

Jessica 

Lorenzo 

Wolsey 

Prospero 



Dancers from the Pageant in the Tempest. 



Note: — This pageant play was written co-operatively by an English 
Class in Miss Hopkins' day school. New York. The class was composed 
of girls whose average age is fourteen, doing the equivalent of first 
and second year High school work. One member of the next higher 
class, Madeliene Prentice, aged seventeen, assisted and wrote the open- 
ing song, the long soliloquy of Shakespeare, and the Epilogue. Such a 
pageant play as this, under the direction of Miss Elinor Murphy, teacher 
of English, is each j^ear a part of the regular work in this ungraded 
school. Other plays written by children of different ages in this school 
have correlated History, Geography and Art appreciation with the 
English wor4< Several of the plays have been acted most successfullv, 
but better than this, they have all proved a veritable awakening process. 



4 All's Tbue — A Pageant Play. 

(Shakespeare is seated at a tajble, writing with a quill pen. 
Ann Shakespeare enters, moves aloutj lighting candles with taper 
and singing softly.) 
Ann ( singing) 

A daffodily swayed in the breeze 

Sing heig-li ho ! 
When a lady fair went by, O — 
And spying- there the pretty flower 
She plucked and wore it for an hour 
But e'en the fairest flowers must die 
And daffodilies wilted lie 
Sing \vhy O ! 
Sing why ! 
Shakespeare. How now, Mistress Ann? 

Ann, Right merrily Will, for does not the air breathe sweetly 
here? And who but can be merry on such a day? 

Shak. 'I'is sweet to be here, Ann, far from the envy and tur- 
moil of great London, And 3'^et methinks I am weary despite it. At 
times the soul grows old ere the body, and a man ill in soul and 
mind will soon be ill in health, and I am one, w^ho tiring of this 
earth— but kiss me, Ann, for there is kindness in thy every deed 
that doth give beauty to the tale, however sad it be. 

(As he folds and seals letter) That letter finished and 'twill 
go to London by this even's post, 'Twill reach Ben Jonson tomor- 
row at the strike of five, for our Stratford-London post is famed 
in all the country side for its speed. Ben shall go to my locker 
in the Globe and from it shall take my manuscript "All's True," 
\vhich play was produced last night at "The Globe" for the first 
time, 

Ann. Ah, Will, thou w^ouldst have journeyed to London to see 
for thyself with what mood the king, the people, the critics gave 
ear to thy last great play, hadst known that Susanna's child 
would no longer be troubled with feverish fantasies. Come, Will, 
(takes his hand) let us see if our grandchild Elizabeth sleeps. 

(Both go to cradle at end of room where sleeps Elizabeth) 
How sweet her smile ! I long to kiss her brow, but fear to lose 
the loving look that lurks among her dimples. See, Will, how 
Beth resembles her mother. 

Shak. (proudly) 'Tis true, and oft methinks she doth possess 
the talents of her grandsire. 



All's True — A Pageant Play. 5 

Ann. Here! here! Thou art a vain man, Will — but come, the 
hour grows late and I'll go fetch thy supper, {exit Ann.) 

Shak. (looking tenderly at child) Sleep, little one. (Ho 
is left alone, and as he sitb in the firelight, a far away look steals 
into his eyes) Oh, that I knew whether "All's True" won 
success yesternight! (Rises and tcalks up and down) Did 
the play meet with the king's favor? Did I again gain the 
applause I won in the days of good Queen Bess (God rest 
her soul). 'Tis true they all believe I write to please the peo- 
ple and to make a goodly sum — and so I have — and yet be- 
neath it all my secret hope has been that all my plays, my 
children dear, might live long after me — aye for fifty years or 
more — and this last work I hope may be the best of all 'to hold 
the mirror up to nature.' This could not be and yet, alack, it ia 
my secret hope ! 

(Goes to easement ivindow and muses a moment). 

Great London, how distant are thy spires 

More distant yet, they seem to me 

My mind has traveled far without you 

And again trying to recreate you from the mist 

It recreates scenes that had been half forgot 

Bubbles that rise upon the sea of thought 

And, having floated for a moment, burst 

And sink into oblivion again — 

Faces half formed, speeches half remembered 

Names that mean nothing, isolated facts 

All swim before the fancy and are gone 

Strange are the workings of the mind of man 

And as he older grows, they're doubly strange 

Having a thicker volume of the past 

To muse upon. Oh that we could combine 

The strength of youth with wisdom of the sage 

For this is but a sorry scheme of things 

When, as the gates of knowledge open out 

Ambition fails and we are of the dead 

And as the dead, forgotten. Forgotten ! 

Ah ! it is a bitter word ! 

Yet few there are who live beyond their little age. 
(ihroivs open casement) 

Cool is the coming night 

The leaves stir faintly to the whispering breeze 



6 All's True- -A Pageant Play. 

And sweet the drone of a belated bee 
Why will man seek to read futurity? 
Is not the present sweet to tired minds? 
But hark ! I hear a horse ! 

(Soimds of horses' hoofs and running steps up the stairs. En- 
ter Ben Jonson, nearly fainting). 

Ben Jonson. Will Shakespeare, I come from London ! 
Oh — I can no more {reels) 

Shak. Ann, Ann, bring Ben Jonson, our g-ood friend, some 
wine, and hasten Ann, 

{To Ben) Labor not so to speak, for thou hast come, I fear, 
to bring some sorry news, and it may rest a little while with 
thee with less harm done. 

{Enter Ann loitli ivine) Thanks, Ann, I'll take the cup. Come 
Ben, drink, for it will ease thy throat and like the sparkling 
spring- of Hippocrene, thy news shall bubble forth in eloquence. 
Marry, art better now? 

Ben. I have come as thou hast feared, burdened with ill news 
from Bankside. Heavy is mj^ heart, leaden my tongue — Canst 
bear the news? For, Will, the Globe has burnt! 

Shak. The Globe has burnt ! 

Ann. What say you? Can it be? The Globe has burnt? 

Shak. Ye vain imaginings and hopes of men! How have ye 
played me traitor? But say on — What happened? What the 
cause? Fear not to tell the slightest loss to one who knows the 
great. 

Ben. Marry, I will tell all from the beginning. 
'Twas a blowy night last eventide 
Yet all London was assembled in the pit 

to view your play. 
Bourbege and the King's players were in high spirit. 
His majesty himself arrived in pomp and splendor 
As you took pains, the pageantry was at its best 
The first scene ending, all applauded 
The second, all stood up and sang and shouted 
And next beyond all speech were they in wonderment 
The king himself did vow he'd never seen a better play 
'Twas after firing of the cannon, Act 1, Scene 3 

at Wolsey's banquet 
The people saw a whiff of smoke rise from the thatch 



All's True — A Pageant Play. 7 

All thought 'twas an idle 'smoak' until at length the 

whole roof was afire 
Then all was chaos— but wonder of Avonders, everyone escaped — 
though in good sooth a man in the pit did burn his panta- 
loons which were put out with a bottle of ale. 

Shak. But, Ben, Ben, — I have bethought me of my papers. 
They were there. Were they not? "All's True'' among them. 
Oh tell me were they spared? 

Ben. Oh Will — I cannot bear to tell thee. But thou reads't 
my thought. Look not so. In thine own words thou reads't the 
soul's reflection in the face. 

Shak. (turns atcaij— drops head for a moment, then to Ann) 
Dear Ann, give our g-ood friend refreshment and let me sit alone 
or thou shalt see Will Shakespeare weep and as thou knowest 
well, tears do not .well befit a man, (Exit Ann and Ben). 

Ann (turning haclx' at doorway) Fret not. Will. The play can 
be remembered and written down, again just as it was. 

Shak. (alone) She never can be writ again the same. 
Oh, Fortune, thy fickle wheel has turned against me 
What is the good of years of toil 
When all in one short night may be consumed? 
The home of all my art gone in a single night ! 
And I am as a parent sad bereft, seeing perish the dearest 

child of his old age. 
And those remaining — what can be their fate or merit if their 
kind the Gods destroy, without the drop of e'en a single 
tear from Heaven? 
"What's done is done" 
To think that I had hoped that this last child of mine would 

live long after me ! 
So must it be with all — 

They are but shadows and vanish with the sun. 
So d;ll things perish, and why should I live on? 
"Life is a tale told hy an idiot, signifying nothing." 

(Lays his head on his arm in utter dejection. All is silent. 
The shadotvs deepen. A silent form glides m and lays her hand 
gently on Shakespeare's head.) 

Spirit of the 20th Centuky. Awaken ! Do not grieve. Hear 
and believe me, for I am the spirit of an unborn century far 
distant. 



8 Ai.L's Tkue — A Pageant Play. 

Shak/ (Raises his 'head slowly. Then starts as he sees spirit 
who emerges from dark part of room into the candle light). 

Oh what vision is this? 

Is this some fantasy proceeding- from my hot and troubled 
brain? 

Art thou some ghost or angel? 

Or is it the weakness of mine eyes? 
Speak to me. Do I dream? Who art thou? 

Spirit. Aye, you dream — but 'tis the sweetest dream of truth 
for you, Oh gentle Shakespeare, for all is true that I shall say. 

(pause). 

"The earth's thv Globe, its footlights are thy stars," 

Spiak. Mock me not ! I was but saying I had lived for naught. 

Spirit. Thy children shall live in the hearts of the people for 
ever — Hamlet — Macbeth — Brutus — Portia — Rosalind — Orlando — 
Eomeo — Juliet — Shylock—Puck — Falstaff, all. 

Shaks. Ah, Spirit, plague me not. Fate has mocked me 
enoug-h e'er now. 

Spirit. Thy name shall live on through strife and wars. 
Look into my glass and behold the future, three hundred years 
from now. Yea, the very manuscripts which thou believest lost 
will be enacted again and again. Thou art for all time and 
for all nations. (*S^. looks into glass) Now thou must believe. 
When thy fatherland and many nations are racked by a great 
war, three hundred years from now, all people shall pause to 
do honor to thy name. Thy children shall live in poetry, in 
music, in art. From far and wide pilgrimages shall be made 
to Stratford. But thou cans't not grasp it all from me. See 
for thyself how thou cans't heal tired and weary hearts. Thou 
shalt feel this night 'the futin-e in the instant.' Do not speak. 
Thou caus't but see and hear. 

(The curtain at hack of the room parts, revealing an inner 
stage — an out of door scene — ivoods. The fairy from Midsummer 
Nights Dream comes in dancing. After dance enter Puck. (Act 
2, scene 1, Mid Summer Nights Dream). 

Puck. "How now, spirit! whither wander you? 

Fairy. Over hill, over dale, 
Through bush, through brier, 
Over park, over pale, 



All's True — A Pageant Play. 

Through flood, through fire, 

I do wander everywhere, 

Swifter than the moon's sphere ; 

And I serve the fairy queen. 

To dew her orbs upon the green. 

The cowslips tall her pensioners be : 

In their gold coats spots you see ; 

Those be rubies, fairy favors. 

In those freckles live their savours : 

I must go seek some dewdrops here. 

And hang a pearl in everj- cowslip's ear. 

Farewell, thou lob of spirits ; I'll be gone : 

Our queen and all her elves come here anon. 

Puck. The king doth keep his revels here to-night ; 
Take heed the queen come not within his sight ; 
For Oberon is passing fell and w^rath, 
Because that she as her attendant hath 
A lovely boy, stolen from an Indian king; 
And jealous Oberon would have the child 
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild ; 
But she perforce witholds the loved boy. 
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him all her joy. 
And now they never meet in grove or green. 
By fountain clear, or spangled starlight sheen, 
But they do square, that all their elves for fear 
Creep into acorn cups and hide them there. 

Fairy. Either I mistake your shape and making quite. 
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite 
Called Robin Goodfellow : are not you he 
That frights the maidens of the villagery ; 
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern. 
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; 
And sometime make the drink to bear no barm, 
Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? 
Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, 
You do their work, and they shall have good luck : 
Are not you he? 

Puck. Thou speak'st aright. 
I am that merry wanderer of the night. 
I jest to Oberon, and make him smile. 



10 All's True — A Pageant Play. 

When I a fat and bean-fed horse begnile, 

Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : 

And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, 

In very likeness of a roasted crab; ' ' 

And when she drinks, against her lips I bob 

And on her withered dewlap pour the ale. 

The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 

Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me ; 

Then slip I from her bum, down topples she, 

And 'tailor' cries, and falls into a cough; 

And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh ; 

And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 

A merrier hour was never wasted there. 

But, room, fairy? here comes Oberon. 

Fairy. And here my mistress. Would that he were gone !" 

(Enter Titania and her train of fairies). 

Dance 

(Exit Titania and her train). 

Puck (to fairy). Know'st thou that many of Will Shakes- 
peare's children shall meet here this night? 

Fairy. Yes, that I knew and that is why I came here. Puck. 

Puck. And know'st thou that we are to tell each other of 
how we've lived in this old world for all these three hundred 
years ? 

Fairy. Yea, that I knew too. Puck. We are three hundred 
years old — but they all love us more than ever — but scamper 
away Puck for here come Touchstone, Orlando and Rosalind. 

(Enter Touchstone, Orlando and Rosalind and Celia). 

Touch. "Here I come though not with bag and baggage — nor 
with scrip and scrippage, but with a likely load, to lovers who 
live in the Forest of Arden." 

Rosalind and Orlando sing :— 
It was a lover and his lass. 
With a hey and a ho and a hey Nonino, 
That o'er the green corn field did pass 
In spring time. The only pretty ring time. \ 

When birds do sing 

Hey ding a ding a ding. Hey ding a ding 
Sweet lovers love the spring." 



All's True — A Pageant Play. 11 

..Touch. You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Shal^espeare, to think 
.we died when you did. 

Ros. Gentle sire, I liave travelled far and wide and in many 
lands enacted the part of Eosalind. Always have I been hon- 
ored and greeted with applan&e. 

Orl. (eagerly) Yea, where'er we have gone we have filled all 
hearts with joy. At first we were timid, but as time went on, we 
became more sportive until now, when we go forth hand in hand 
to meet the youth of every land. And this is as we were but 
yesternight in great New Y'ork. 

{They act a scene from An You Lil-e It. Act 4, scene 1). 

Eos. ''Why, how now, Orlando ! where have you been all this 
while? Y"ou a lover I An you serve me such another trick, never 
come in my sight more ! 

Orl. My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise. 

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love ! He that will divide a 
minute into a. thousand parts, and break but a part of the 
thousanth part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said 
of him that Cupid hath clapped him o' the shoulder, but I'll 
warrant him heart-^vhole. 

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no more in my sight : I 
had as lief be wooed of a snail. 

Orl. Of a snail? 

Ros. Ay, of a snail ; for though he come slowly, he carries his 
house on his head ; a better jointure, I think, than you make a 
woman: besides, lie brings his destiny with him. 

Orl. ^Miat's that? 

Ros, Why, horns, which such as you are fain to be beholding to 
your wives for ; but he comes armed in his fortune and prevents 
the slander of his wife. 

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker; and my Rosalind is virtuous. 

Ros. And I am your Rosalind. 

Orl. It pleases him to call you so ; but he hath a Rosalind of 
a better leer than j'ou. 

Eos. Come, woo me, woo me ; for now I am in a holiday hu- 
mour and like enough to consent. What would you say to me 
now, an I w^ere your very Rosalind? 

Orl. I w^ould kiss before I spoke. 

Ros. Nay, you were better speak first ; and when you were 



12 All's True — A Pageant Play. 

gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. 
Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit, and for 
lovers lacking — God warn us! — ^matter, the cleanliest 'shift is to 
kiss. 

Obl. How if the kiss be denied? 

Eos. Then she puts you to entreaty and there begins new 
matter. 

Orl. Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress? 

Eos. Marry, that should you, if I were your mistress, or I 
should think my honesty ranker than mj^ wit. 

Orl. What of my suit? 

Eos. Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am 
not I your Eosalind? 

Orl. I take some joy to saj- jou are, because I would be talk- 
ing of her. • 

Eos. Well, in her person, I say I would not have j'ou. 

Orl. Then in mine own person I die. 

Eos. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor world is almost 
six thousand years old, and in all this time there was not any 
man died in his own person, videlicet, in the love-cause. Troilus 
had his brains dashed out with a Grecian club ; yet he did what 
he could to die before, and he is one of the patterns of love. 
Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero 
had turned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night ; 
for, good youth, he went but forth to wash him in the Helles- 
pont, and being taken with the cramp was drowned : and the 
foolish chroniclers of that age found it was 'Hero of Sestos.' 
But these are all lies : men have died and worms have eaten 
them, but not for love. 

Orl. T would not have my right Eosalind of this mind ; for, 
I protest, her frown might kill me. 

Eos. By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come, now I 
will be your Eosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and 
ask me what you will, 1 will grant it. 

Orl. Then love me Eosalind. 

Eos. Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all. 

Orl. And wi]t thou have me? 

Eos. Ay, and twenty such. 

Orl. What say est thou? 

Eos. Are you not good? 



All's True— A Pageant Play. 13 

Orl. I hope so. 

Kos. Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing"? 
Come, sister, you shall he the priest and marry us. Give me 
your hand, Orlando. What do you say sister? 

Orl. Pray thee, marry us. 

Gel. I cannot say the words. 

Eos. You must begin 'Will you Orlando — ' 

Gel. Go to. Will you, Orlando, have to wife this Eosalind? 

Orl. I will. 

Eos. Ay, but when? 

Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry us. 

Eos. Then you must say 'I take thee, Eosalind, for wife.' 

Orl. I take thee, Eosalind, for Avife. 

Eos. I might ask you for your commission ; but I do take 
thee, Orlando, for my husband : 'Jliere's a girl goes before the 
priest ; and certainly a woman's thought runs before her actions. 

Orl. So do all thoughts ; the^^ are winged. 

Eos. Now tell me how long you would have her after you have 
possessed her. 

Orl. For ever and a day. 

Eos. Say 'a day' without the 'ever.' No, no, Orlando ; men 
are April when they woo, I^ecember when they wed : maids are 
May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are 
wives. I will be more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock- 
pigeon over his hen, more clamorous than a parrot against rain, 
more new-fangled than an ape, more giddy in my desires than 
a monkey : I will weep for nothing, like Diana in the fountain, 
and I will do that when you are disposed to be merry ; I will 
laiTgh like a hyena, and that when you art inclined to slee]). 

Orl. But will my Eosalind do so? 

Eos. By my life, she will do as I do. 

Orl. O, but she is A^dse. 

Eos. Or else she coiild not have the wit to do this : the wiser, 
the waj^warder : make the doors upon a woman's wit and it will 
out at the casement : shut that and 'twill out at the key-hole ; 
stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney. 

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, he might say 
'Wit, whither wilt?' 

Eos. Nay, you might keep that check for it till you met your 
wife's wit going to your neighbor's bed. 



14 All's True— A Pageant Play. 

Okl. And what wit could wit have to excuse that? 

Eos. JNl.-irry, to say she came to seek you there. You shall 
never take her without her ansv^'er, unless you take her without 
her tongue. O, that woman, that cannot make her fault her 
husband's occasion, let her never nurse her child herself, for 
she will breed it like a fool I 

Orl. For these two hours, Eosalind, I will leave thee. 

Ros. Alas, dear love, T cannot lack thee two hours! 

Orl. I must attend the Duke at dinner : by two o'clock I will 
be with thee again. 

ItOS. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ; I knew what you would 
prove: my friends told me as much, and I thought no less ; that 
flattering tongue of yours won me : 'tis but one cast away, and 
so, come, death! Two o'clock is your hour? 

Orl. Aj, sweet Eosalind. 

Eos. By my troth, and in g-ood earnest, and so God mend me,, 
and by all pretty oaths that are not dangerous, if you break 
one jot of your promise or come one minute behind your hour,. 
I will think you the most pathetical break-promise, and the 
most hollow lover, and the most unworthy of her you call 
Eosalind, that may be chosen out of the gross band of the 
unfaithful : therefore beware my censure and keep your promise. 

Orl. With no less religion than if you wert indeed my Eosa- 
lind : so adieu. 

(Exit Orlando) 

Cel. You have simply misused our sex in your love-prate : we 
must have your doublet and hose plucked over your head, and 
show the world what the bird hath done to her own nest. 

Eos. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, that thou didst know 
how many fathom deep I am in love ! But it cannot be sounded : 
my affection hath an unknown bottom, like the bay of Portugal. 

Cel. Or rather, bottomless ; that as fast as you pour affection 
in, it runs out. 

Eos. No, that same wicked bastard of Venus that was begot 
of thought, conceived of spleen, and born of madness, that blind 
rascally boy that abuses every one's eyes because his own are 
out, let him be the judge how deep I am in love. I'll tell thee, 
Aliena, I cannot be out of the sight of Orlando : I'll go find a 
shadow and sigh till he come. 



All's True— A Pageant Play. 15 

Cel. And I'll sleep. 

Both. Adieu. (Exeunt.) 

Spir. 'IVas a scene for tired souls and heart aches, but here 
comes Antony to stir men's blood. 

Enter Mark Antony (the curtain of the inner stage is draicn 
and Mark Antony steps to front of outer stage and recites the 
funeral oration.) 

M. A. "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears ; 
T come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
The evil that men do lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus 
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : 
If it were so, it was a g-rievous fault, 
And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest. 
For Brutus is an honourable man ; 
So are they all, all honourable men, — 
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
But ]?rutus says he was ambitious ; 
And Brutus is an honourable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Pome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? 
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept : 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: ^ 

Yet Brutus saj^s he was ambitious ; 
And Brutus is an honourable man. 
You all did see that on the Lupereal 
I thrice presented him a kingly crown. 
Which he did thrice refuse ; was this ambition ? 
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke. 
But here I am to speak what I do know. 
You all did love him once, not without cause : 
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? 
O judgment : thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason. Bear with me ; , 



16 All's Tkue — A Pageant Play. 

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 
And I must pause till it come back to me." 

(Exit.) 

(Inner curtain drawn hack again disclosing balcony scene 
from Romeo and Juliet. Act 2, scene 2.) 

Jul. "Hist ! Eomeo, hist ! — O, for a falconer's voice, 
To lure this tassel-g-entle back again ! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, 
With repetition of my Romeo's name. 

Eomeo I 

EoM. It is my soul that calls upon my name : 
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
Like softest music to attending ears ! 

Jul. Eomeo ! 

EoM. My dear. 

Jul. At what o'clock tomorrow 

Shall I send to thee? 

EoM. At the hour of nine. 

Jul. I will not fail : 'tis twenty years till then. 
I have forgot why T did call thee back. 

EoM. Let me stand here till thou remember it. , 

Jul. It shall forget, to have thee still there, 
Eemembering how I love thy company. 

EoM. And I'll still staj^, to have thee still forget. 
Forgetting any^other home than this. 

Jul. 'Tis almost morning ; I would have thee gone : 
And yet no farther than a wanton's bird, 
Who lets it hop a little from her hand, 
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves. 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again. 
So loving-jealous in his liberty. 

EoM. I would I were thy bird 

Jul. Sweet, so would I : 
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow 
That I shall say good night till it be morrow." 

(Curtain draws.) 



All's True — A Pageant Play, 17 

Spir. All lovers lind themselves in these dear children. The 
charm and beauty of their romance have enthralled the world. 
They w^ill always live in song, in drama, and on canvas, but 
most of all in the hearts of the people. 

(Enter Portia from Merchant of Venice) 

Spir. Whose heart hath not been softened by this gentle 
lady's speech of Mercy that alwaj^s rings so strong and clear? 

Portia. "The quality of mercy is not strain'd. 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty. 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. 
It is an attribute to God himself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this. 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation : We do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy." 

(Exit). 

(Curtain of inner scene again draivn open). 

Enter Hamlet. 

Ham. ''To be, or not to be r that is the question : 
A\Tiether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And by opposing end them. To die : to sleep : 
No more ; and by a sleep to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep; 
To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub ; 



18 All's True — A Pageant Play. 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 

When we have shufilcd off this mortal coil, 

Must give us pause : there's the respect 

That makes calamity of so long life ; 

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely. 

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office, and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

"When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear. 

To grunt and sweat under a. weary life. 

But that the dread of something after death. 

The undiscover'd country from whose bourn 

No traveller returns, puzzles the will, 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have 

Than Ay to others that we know not of? 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, 

And thus the native hue of resolution 

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought. 

And enterprises of great pitch and moment 

With this regard, their currents turn away 

And lose the name of action." 

(Exit). 

Spirit. And now a happier scene. More love and less philoso- 
phy. 

(Filter Jessica and Lorenzo) 

(Act 5, scene 1, Merchant of Venice). 

Lor. "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will v^^e sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 
Such harmony is in immortal souis ; 



All's True — A Pageant Play. 19 

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." 

{Enter Henry Fifth and soldiers) 

Spib. And who has not been stirred by honest Hal? 

K. Hen. "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more ; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead. 
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man 
As modest stillness and humility : 
But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
Disguise fair nature with hard-f avour'd rage ; 
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
Let it pry through the portage of the head 
Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it 
As fearfully as doth a galled rock 
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
Now set the teeth and stretch and nostril wide. 
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit 
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English, 
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war -proof ! 
Fathers that, like so many lUexanders, 
Have in these parts from morn till even fought. 
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument : 
Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest 
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you. 
Be copy now to men of grosser blood, 
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen. 
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding ; which I doubt not ; 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
I see you stand like greyhounds in the skips, 
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot, 
Follow your spirit, and iipon this charge 
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George !" 

(Exit). 



20 All's True — A Pageant Play. 

(Enter Wolsey) 

Wol. "Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man : today he pnts forth 
The tender leaves of hopes ; tomorrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing- honours thick upon him; 
The third day comes a frost, a killing- frost. 
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
This mam- summers in a sea of glory. 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me, and now has left me. 
Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : 
I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on prince's favours ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have : 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again," 

(Exit). 

Spir. How couldst thou doubt? He's lived through many 
fires and wars and will live on and on and on — But here comes 
Prospero. 

(Enter Prospero) 

Pros. 'By mine art call I forth spirits from their confines to 
enact my present fancies.' 

(Enter 8 dancers from the pageant in the Tempest). 

Dance. 

(Exit dancers and Prospero steps to front of stage). 

Pros. "Our revels now are ended. These our actors, 
As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
Are melted into air, into thin air : 
And like the baseless fabric of this vision, 



All's True — A Pageant Play. 2i 

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. 
And, like this imsubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep." 

(The characters steal ui)on the stage as music plays and group 
ahout Shakespeare) . 

All. But 'tis true, all's true. Thou art immortal ! We thy 
children say it. 

Spie. ISfaster Shakespeare, rise, and follow me. 
Shak. Whither art taking me? Speak, I pray you. 
Spir. Silence, Will Shakespeare. Speak not I Neither let yoTir 
heart be troubled. Follow me. 

(The characters group themselves evenly on either side of a 
curtain at the l)ack of the stage. Puck and the Fairy carry a 
throne, covered, in rich cloth. The spirit takes Shakespeare hy 
the hand and leads him. to the throne. Music is heard. The 
characters all kneel. The spirit speaks. 
Spir. Children, pass the crown I pray you. 
(A laurel crown is passed from- the end of the row on a satin 
cushion. The spirit places the cushion at Shakespeare's feet, 
lifts the crown and places it on Shakespeare's head. He also 
hands him a gold sceptre ttvined ahout tcith laurels and roses. 
As the sceptre is handed to Shakespeare all the characters rise 
and each marches up in turn singing and laying red roses at 
Shakespeare's feet. The spirit stands behind the throne. The 
characters move to the throne and make an aisle, standing in 
even numbers on each side, the women on one side, the men 
on the other. They all boio to each other. Then Romeo takes 
Juliet's hand and they both turn and bow to Shakespeare. 
R. & J. Master ! Hail ! All hail ! 

(At this signal each couple bow to each other, join hands and 
cry ''Hail! Hall! Immortal Shakespeare! All's true! All's true!" 
(As characters kneel before Shakespeare, the spirit steps for- 
ward and recites Epilogue.) 



22 Arx's True — A Pageant Play. 



EPILOGUE. 

SPIRIT OF THE 20TH CENTURY. 

Oh singer with voice divine, 

Oh bard of a thousand lays, 
Measure not thy fame by time — 

Count not thy glory in days. 
Thy name will pass down the years, 

Thy fame will girdle the earth, 
Wherever the white man stands. 

Wherever his sons have birth. 



The Use of Outline Studies 



The use of Outline Studies may or may not be advisable. 
It depends on the character of the OutHnes. 

Those that furnish ready-made information; those that do the work which the 
pupil should do for himself; those that make it scarcely necessary for him to exam- 
ine the book that is outlined; these are well named "Canned English.'" These da^ 
serve the reprobation that is heaped upon them by thoughtful teachers. 

There are others that have been made with special care for the scholarly inter- 
ests of the pupil. They are based on sound pedagogical principles. They are in 
every respect helpful and commendable. 



The Kingsley Outline Studies 

Are distinguished from all others 
by the followinsr features: 

1. They open with a brief paragraph on "Preparatory Work," which helps 
the pupil to get his bearings, to place the book to be studied in its proper setting 
jn the general scheme of history and of literature. 

2. They require the pupil to read the book threo. times, studying it critic- 
ally each time from a different view point. 

3. They close with a section on "Supplementary Work," including a valua- 
ble list of theme subjects and examination questions. 

4. Througnout, the Kingsley Outlines are almost wholly in the form of sug- 
gestion and direction rather than of assertion. They raise questions and set the 
pupil at work to do his own thinking. They are not a crutch, but an inspiration. 

Send for Complete Catalogue, 



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LIST OF PAGEANT PLAYS NOW READY OR IN PREPARATION: 

1. AU's True 

The work of a group of girls, ages 13 to 15, in Miss Hopkins' School, 
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Describes a scene in London at the time of Shakespeare, the occa- 
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classes, throughout the ages, (now ready.) 

2. The Long Road to To-morrovs^ 

Presents the characters of History, introduced by the Spirit of the 
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The above Plays have been written and will be published, — probably 
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IV. A Play written for small children, in which Reading, Writing, 
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